Rise of the Enemy by Rob Sinclair

Author:Rob Sinclair [Rob Sinclair]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781909477865
Publisher: Clink Street Publishing
Published: 2015-05-26T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 29

I slept for twelve straight hours on the sofa of the safe house. Together with the meal that Mary had cooked – a warming meat stew – the long rest had done its job. By morning I felt stronger and fresher than I had done in an age.

After a simple breakfast we left the safe house at midday, on foot, headed to the Café Vite to meet Mackie. The rendezvous point was a half-hour’s walk but I was happy to be in the fresh air, even though my feet were aching within minutes. It would be at least a few more days until the sores healed properly.

It was a clear and crisp day, but despite the bright sun the temperature was still unbearably low. There hadn’t been any new snow overnight so what lay on the ground had become hard and icy and slippery. On the main streets of the city the piles of snow that had been cleared from the roads and pavements were already turning black from the petrol and diesel fumes of passing vehicles and vast swathes of mucky slush were splattered here, there and everywhere.

None of us spoke on the walk. That suited me. It gave me more time to ponder what was about to happen. I was full of nerves – a strange feeling for me. I had no idea what to expect from the meeting. Was it going to be another ambush? Were they going to off me there and then? Or was Mackie really going to be there in conciliatory mode, to offer a helping hand to me like he’d done countless times before?

Lena and the Russians wanted me to kill Mackie. They’d told me that would be my way out, the way to earn my freedom from them. With everything that had been going on around me, I wasn’t sure the proposition was so outlandish any more.

I just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

We arrived at the café, which was fronted by what would probably be a bustling outdoor area during the brief but warm summer, but it was so quiet now, in the mid-winter, that anyone walking by may not even have realised that the place was still open for business. As we walked in, Mary in front, Chris behind me, I noticed only two other patrons in the quaint, French-style interior. Not really surprising given the weather – who comes out for coffee and a slice of cake when it’s minus twenty?

The café was compact with just four rows of neatly aligned tables. I took a seat in the far corner at a small round table that had two chairs. Mary and Chris took one of the tables near to the door, about twelve feet away from me. They were here to babysit me, evidently, but not to be party to my conversation with Mackie.

The waitress came over to me straight away and I ordered a sparkling water. She gave me an odd look, probably unused to people coming in from the cold for a chilled drink.

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